short stories

moh ke daage

Corvus has always been angrier than white dwarves or supernovas or black holes. The red blood that pulses through his veins is like candy and liquor fused into star dust and dark matter. It is volatile, destructive, and it keeps him alive. He wants to rip apart walls and people and feelings, letting the guilt fall into a ravine which is called his heart. The beating organ that pumps poison does not have a place for moonshine tainted kisses and cinnamon hearts(he hates those). It is empty and blackened, as if Tartarus himself decided to find a home in a human's chest to grow skeletons and plasma in.

•

Corvus never expected a god to find him one day. Something he would never have dreamed of was that it was Apollo.

"I thought you didn't give a shit about us," Corvus says. His voice slices through the peaceful interlude of silence and scares off a few birds. His deeply set eyes narrow in inquisitiveness, almost an endearing one that gives light to his high cheekbones and long eyelashes. His skin is the colour of terracotta painted over with a thin layer of white and yellow. The sun envies the ground he stands on because he is the definition of her offspring; not only that, he surpasses it.

"You're like another version of Ares but in the body of an Egyptian boy," Apollo muses. For some reason, his eyes are a dull blue and he radiates his sister's energy.

"Why are you here?"

Apollo looks taken aback. Perhaps he is regretting not thinking anything out before approaching a habitually angry mortal. "No actual reason. You just interest me. And you have nice eyes."

Corvus snorts. "I wonder how you got so many girls pregnant with that kind of flirting," he notes. He can't help but notice that Apollo's compliment made his chest flutter like an escaping dove. As he walks home, he almost looks into a mirror to see how his eyes are worthy of any nicety pointed out by a god. He stops himself before that happens.

•

"Why do you always come here?" Apollo asks. He leans on a tree, ripping off a piece of bark and setting it on fire.

"Fuck you. Go away."

Apollo laughs. The sun shines brighter, even on Corvus, flowers lifting up and grass somehow turning more green. "You're quite assertive. Wait," he says, letting his finger hold up his chin, "I said that two days ago. I'm running out of adjectives to describe you," he slides down the base of the tree he's leaning on, sitting cross legged with his hands in his lap, "because you're that interesting. I also used that word before."

"How have I interested you?" Corvus asks. He bites his tongue immediately after, sharp and salty blood running over his teeth, the twinge of pain reminding him of who he his and who he will never be.

"I don't know, actually. I was just around and then I saw you. My breath was taken away, as ironic and cliche as that seems." Apollo suddenly looks up. "But really," he adds, "why aren't you ever with anyone else?"

Corvus figures that he may as well tell. "My father killed somebody. No one wants to talk to the child of a murderer."

"You're–" Apollo almost says, and Corvus thinks that he's going to say an apple that doesn't fall far from its tree, "you're kidding me. How can you stay here? After what the locals think you are?"

"I have nowhere else to go," Corvus mutters. He is revealing too much, exposing too much, existing too much. He tries control the thoughts exploding like fireworks he has only heard of, and he fails.

"Why not..." Apollo licks his lips and Corvus feels what seems like an artery combust, "why not come with me?"

What do I have to lose? Corvus thinks. "I'll think about it."

•

"So," Apollo says, during a December morning that raises the hairs on Corvus' arms and creates tremolos in his flesh and blood, "have you decided?" The small garden they reside in has temporarily withered away with as much grace as a dancer, leaving with the same promise of coming back again.

"You can't expect me to tell you so soon. And also," Corvus says, looking Apollo in the eyes for the first time, "aren't you just going to use me? I'm a mortal. I won't last." A breeze fans onto his face and he looks back down at the ground, wincing when a part of his skin comes in contact with the cool metal of the park bench he sits on.

"I..." Apollo looks shocked, taken aback. "I would never do anything like that."

"I can't come with you, wherever this place is. I also–" Corvus chokes on his words subtly, a hint that Apollo almost doesn't catch, "I also refuse to fall in love with you." Too sappy, too sappy, too sappy–he tries to block out the thoughts in his mind. It doesn't work, even after he leaves with his chest a piece of tungsten and his lungs full of mercury.

•
(not edited)
wow another chapter i am on a roll